


The Way To A Man's Heart

by TheRomanticist02



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 12:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRomanticist02/pseuds/TheRomanticist02
Summary: In which Roman is sly as a fox, and Seth falls...eventually.
Relationships: Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	The Way To A Man's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wintoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintoria/gifts).

> For my friend (ooo, lol). She's Wintoria here. I promised to get this out if she finally joined ao3, although she usually just sticks to Wattpad, lol. But she kinda digs Rolleigns (because our friends must be compelled into the things we love, lol) and we swoon together. Now i just gotta convince her to write for this withering pairing (that rhymes, whoop) lol. 
> 
> Anywhore, this prompt, she gave to me:
> 
> "I think you need to taste this for me," the monarch said. They shoved the exquisite cake in their guard's direction. 
> 
> Their guard blinked. "Um."
> 
> "What, you'd rather your monarch be poisoned?"
> 
> Of course not. The guard hesitantly took a mouthful, only to practically melt in satisfaction. "Oh my god." It was amazing. They caught themselves. "I -er - I think it's fine."
> 
> "You should try a sip of the wine too," the monarch said. "Just to be safe. Sit, sit."
> 
> It took the guard slightly too long to realize that it was practically a date with the monarch feeding them.
> 
> *  
I switched and played around with a bit to suit Rolleigns. So this is what I came up with....enjoy XD

To say that Seth is skeptical the first time it happens would be a great _ understatement _. He is warily apprehensive, large, brown eyes – that are droopy with exhaustion – blinking at his boss in disbelief. “Excuse me?” He finally finds his voice after a long, confused (on his end) silence.

“You heard me,” Roman says, crossing his legs, leaning back on his impressive chair – that may as well be considered a throne – and looking so _ comfortable, _ so unperturbed that Seth wishes he could find one thing – _ just one _– that makes his boss bristle, and lose control.

“Why?” another question, although Seth really doesn’t have the patience for this. He just wants to get home and sleep – maybe after his conscious is done eating away at him for associating with the likes of Roman Reigns, leader of the most feared Mafia family in America – the Bloodline. His mother must be turning in her grave right now.

“Because this is part of your job, that’s why, Rollins.” Roman, thankfully, cuts through Seth’s bitter-tinged thoughts. And although the brunet is grateful, he can’t prevent an eye roll, aimed towards his cool-as-a-cucumber boss whose voice, though soft, was clearly ordering Seth.

“I’m your bloody PA,” Seth snaps, feeling every bit childish as he folds his arms to his chest. “Last I checked, being food taster wasn’t in my list of duties.”

“It is now.”

The Italian/Samoan bastard says it so simply, with an authority so serene that Seth envies him. Here he is, struggling not to pop a fucking blood vessel over someone who couldn’t give two fucks. “Why all of a sudden? Did someone finally wise up and decide that poisoning you would be much simpler, and too less of a hassle?”

“I have my suspicions,” Roman responds dryly, he scoots forward, long fingers deftly wrapping around the fork that was on the table. He spears a forkful of his pasta carbonara and mutters, “Here comes the choo choo train,” in that deadpan expression only he has.

Seth is tempted to smack his hand away – but he suspects he’s gone too far for one night. Being on his boss’ next kill list isn’t exactly on his to-do list. More times than not, it’s the other way around – Seth is still just trying to figure out whether he wants Roman’s death to be a quick or not. He’s fine with either, if he really thinks about it.

“Are you going to glare at the food all night, princess?” Roman asks, still holding out the fork. “Not that I’m complaining, but I’ve things to do, animals to hunt.” A little smirk tugs at one corner of Roman’s lips. Seth barely stops himself from recoiling in disgust, Roman’s the only man he knows who enjoys hunting his ‘prey’ and taunting them a little before going for the kill.

“Fine!” Seth snatches the fork, looking at the pasta suspiciously before shoving it inside his mouth. He chews. A second. Two. “It would’ve tasted better with cream but not everyone has great taste.” Seth snipes, standing – surprisingly – firm under Roman’s unwavering, disconcerting gaze. _ What is he looking at? _“I’d reckon it’s safe – unless of course I’m lucky and it will take a little longer to kick in.”

“I wouldn’t call you lucky then.” Roman’s eyebrows furrow. “I’ve yet to taste this.” And shit! Seth’s eyes widen with realization. “Why don’t you take a seat? If I’m still feeling generous once the poison kicks in, I may just have help by your side.”

“Lucky me.” Seth sits down, unconsciously reaching for the white wine, and drinking it from the bottle. Roman raises an eyebrow, his gaze holding Seth’s. “I may as well.” Seth shrugs, savoring the sour tinge that perfectly complements the smoky bacon. “If I’m dying in the next five or fucking whatever minutes, I may as well go out in style, spluring on a $14 000 bottle.”

The Italian/Samoan, ‘I-look-good-without-even-trying, and did I mention I’m a serial killer?’ asshole leans back, unperturbed, and smiles at Seth. “Touché.”

Bastard.

* * *

Seth survives that strange encounter – luckily.

He’s almost forgotten about it, too. That is, until nearly two weeks later.

Seth’s bone tired, has had a very long, very draining day. Between dealing with Roman’s legal – a small portion but still there nonetheless – affairs, he also has to attend to an Arms trafficking deal that’s in the works between his boss and a supplier from Liberia. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that Roman trusts him that much – because ninety-nine percent of the time Seth wants to strangle his boss, and Roman is aware of it, but he’s more amused by the knowledge than anything, and that somehow makes Seth wanting to strangle him with his bare hands more tempting.

At 09:30 pm, Seth decides to go and find the man. He wasn’t put on this earth to be on Roman’s every beck and call. Outside of this, he has a life too – nonexistent, but still his nonetheless. Roman’s estate is huge, a testament of his years of hard work...killing anything or anyone in his path. But it still got him where he needed to be in life.

The sounds coming from a room down the basement have Seth’s heart quickening. He’s almost certain he knows what’s going on in there but he’s not sure if he wants to confirm for sure. He’s never witnessed Roman kill anyone – at least not in his presence. And Seth would like to keep it that way. He’s tough, sure, but he’s no Roman. He wasn’t made to withstand certain things like his boss.

A timid knock on the door, Seth waits five minutes, hoping it’s enough time to let Roman know he’s at the door before twisting the handle and peering inside. It wasn’t enough time. Sure the body isn’t in plain sight for Seth to see but there are things he notices that he can’t unsee. Like the blood on the floor. And the knife in Roman’s hand. He can’t unsee the blood, thick and dripping off of Roman’s fingers. “What is it?” Roman whirls around to face him, looking beguilingly angelic – the face of a man who wouldn’t hurt a fly. _ All illusions. _

“I was, um,” Seth clears his throat, yelling at himself for the way his voice wavers – wobbling with emotion. “Just wanting to g-go home.”

“No.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake...

“I’m tired.” Seth doesn’t dare step inside the cold, dark room, whose source of light is a bleak fluorescent light, and sends Roman the nastiest glare he can muster – given current circumstances. “I’ve never agreed to any overtime, Roman. You should take a look at my contract when you’re not busy being a heartless bastard. I was supposed to leave _ three hours ago. _I’m hungry. I just want to get home, eat and sleep.”

“A second, princess. You’re not going to die waiting an extra hour. Go back inside, I’ll join you shortly.”

Roman’s using that gentle tone of his, the one that’s commanding, but soft and gentle. The one that Seth’s seen manipulate many to their downfall. The one you can’t help _ falling _ into submission for because it’s so goddamn _ gentle _ and _ soothing _ and completely _ beguiling. _“Ten minutes. After that, I leave.” Seth murmurs, once he finally finds his voice.

An approving hum. “Go back inside.”

When Roman comes back, he’s looking neater, not that he wasn’t before. Despite the blood on his hands, he’d still looked clean in his grey slacks and crisp white shirt. His clothes fit him perfectly, teasing his glorious body, and not a single thing about him is out of place. Even his clothes are terrified to offend him. Seth snorts at his train of thought – he’s ridiculous.

“Rollins, do I have your attention?”

Seth blinks, clearing his throat, as Roman breaks through his reverie. A sigh, and he looks into his boss’ sparkling brown eyes. “Unfortunately.” A little sigh. “Since you haven’t dropped dead. What do you need me for?”

Roman raises his eyebrows, hint of a smile forming on his lips. “If you were paying attention the first time, you’d know.” And, just like that, the beauty of Roman’s smile transitions into an ugly one for Seth, and he frowns at the man staring back at him “I’d like for you to taste this.” Roman refers to the plateful of food Seth has never seen before.

Again?

Rolling his eyes, Seth folds his arms across his chest. “What, you’re bitter you weren’t successful at your murder attempt the last time so you’re trying again? And what hell is this, I don’t practice cannibalism – unfortunately for you.”

Roman makes the move from the other side of the kitchen island to where Seth is. “I know you’re not cultured, Seth.” His lips press into a thin line, an unreadable _ something _in his eyes. Oh, oh. Someone does not look pleased. “But that is low – even for you.” His tone is stern, and greatly intimidating when directed at him. Seth flushes, feeling like a misbehaving child. “Now open your mouth.”

Seth doesn’t want to. But it’s back to that gentle, coaxing voice again. He obeys. “Mmm...” his eyes close, and he makes a pleased sound from the back of his throat. _ Oh my... _ This is... _ Heaven. _

“Taste good?” The raspy voice draws Seth back to the present. When he opens his eyes, it’s to find Roman standing close to him, with maybe a few inches separating them. He doesn’t know why the proximity causes his heart to pump faster all of a sudden. Or why the warmth of Roman’s body makes him heady. It could be his scent. _ God, he smells so good – so good. _“More?” Roman’s gaze is unwavering, eyes darkening – and he’s breathing heavier than usual...while Seth, he’s stopped breathing all together. “Princess?”

Now Seth normally hates the word, usually, because it’s said out of mockery. But right now, with this weird electricity pulsing between he and Roman, Seth practically _ melts _as he responds with a breathless, “Yes?”

“Won’t you sit down?” Roman steps away from him, creating some much needed distance. “I won’t have you looking like a lost sheep in my home. That’s not the look we’re going for.”

This, this is why...

_ Grrr!!! _

“Take me home!”

“Sure.” Roman grabs Seth by the shoulders – bringing these weird tingles in Seth’s belly – and guides him to one of his posh stools. “Right after I’ve fed you. This is pai apa – a Samoan delicacy.”

What is wrong with this man?

“You’re so fucking weird!” Seth quips, after he’s had a good swallow of the...whatever Roman said this is. He moans, not even catching himself. This food at least is good, it will make up for Roman’s better-than-thou snobbish attitude. “Who made this? I’ll worship them for the rest of my life!”

“I did,” Roman says simply, a smug smile on his face. “You can start by calling me Daddy.”

Seth chokes on his food. Jesus, does this man want to give him a heart attack? Is he even serious? Seth can’t tell – not with him calm, collected façade. Christ, he envies the man! “You wish!” is the only retort Seth can think of once mildly recovered.

* * *

Seth doesn’t know when it becomes more frequent – his role as Roman Reigns’ designated food taster.

It’s a bearable responsibility honestly, compared to his other duties, his new ‘appointment’ isn’t so bad – never mind that if Roman _ were _ actually to be poisoned then Seth would be his first casualty. It should bother Seth – and it does – but he has to concede that the food is _ ridiculously tantalizing. _And sometimes, it’s deliciousness has Seth staying at Roman’s home longer than he should.

“You said you enjoy this, right?” Roman slides a plate with two wurst sandwiches across the counter. Seth has to blink because – one: he’s 100% sure he’s dreaming. Because two: he hasn’t found even one restaurant in America that makes these kinds of wurst sandwiches. And three : _ no, _he did not tell Roman what his favorite food is so how did the gentle psychopath know?

“Where did you get these?”

Roman shrugs, smiling a secret smile that Seth couldn’t decipher if he tried to. “Just eat the damn food, princess. I know it’s one of your favorites.”

“But why?” Seth doesn’t get it. For the past month or so, Roman has been doing this. Surely, he’s still not paranoid that someone will possibly poison him. Not when he’s starting to get Seth’s favorites. Unless he has another agenda, a mysterious illusion that he’s drawing Seth into. Maybe he’s planning to murder Seth one of these days but he’s stalling by playing these mind games. Isn’t this how he’s managed to shatter and conquer even Vince’s kingdom?

Seth suddenly feels sick. He’s not sure if it’s because of his dangerous train of thought of if Roman’s actually poisoned his food this time. Seth honestly wouldn’t mind the latter – at least Roman’s intentions would finally be clear. “I’m not some toy for you to play around with, you know?” he starts, pushing his plate away.

Roman cocks an eyebrow. He looks puzzled.

“This, whatever you’re doing. It’s not going to work on me because I know you for what you really are.” Seth stands up, clutching his belly. God, he wants to retch what he’s just eaten so bad. “And you’re a coward for not being straightforward with me. If you’re trying to get rid of me, you should be man enough to tell me about it.”

“That’s not –”

“Shut up!” Seth throws one wurst sandwich at him. It hits Roman squarely on the chest, staining his white button-down. He frowns, gaining one dark expression, sending unpleasant shivers right up Seth’s spine. “Ro-Roman, I didn’t –”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Roman starts, his tone greatly controlled – but the detachment, and how frigid it is, Seth remains frozen in one place. “You’re going to leave this place – and not come back until you’ve returned to your senses!”

“With pleasure,” Seth bites back, genuinely irritated that Roman would even get mad at him when it’s the Mafia asshole who’s in the wrong. Seth isn’t the one fooling anyone into trusting them. What you see is what you get with him. And then there’s Roman, with all these different layers and shades of cool and calm that you just don’t know what to expect. “Fuck you.” Seth adds just because he can. “I’m out of here.”

“Seth.”

“WHAT?!” he doesn’t look back at Roman.

“The exit is the other way.”

Oh...

Seth whirls around, cutting his eyes at a displeased looking Roman. Good. “I knew that.”

* * *

It takes two days.

Forty-eight hours of nonstop analysis from Seth to determine that maybe Roman, that maybe the ‘I-look-good-without-even-trying, and did I mention I’m a serial killer?’ Italian/Samoan gentle psychopathic asshole was trying to, to...

Oh, fuck it. Seth can’t even say the words, let alone fully wrap his mind around the possibility.

He sets everything up in Roman’s too elegant kitchen and goes on his quest. There are sounds coming from that room in the basement again – this time, over the shrill screams of a man clearly in hell, you can hear the sound of beautiful sound of Beethoven’s Für Elise. Seth knocks thrice and then waits ten minutes this time.

He opens the door. Roman has a wild look in his eyes, he’s not alone, and has his twin cousins for company. The body of a large man tied to a metal chair captures Seth’s attention. Briefly, he notices the blood coming from his nose – or what’s left of it. Seth quickly looks away, forcing down the bile. Roman must see his discomfort because he orders Seth to go back upstairs in that soothing voice he uses to manipulate people.

Seth obeys in a trance, looking over his shoulder as Roman joins him not five minutes later.

“What is this?”

Seth chews on the inside of his cheek, and hesitates a second. “A truce, peace, whatever.” Turning to fully face a now stoic Roman, he smiles his brightest beam. “Would you like to sit down?”

Roman complies a second later, and Seth grabs the fork, stabbing a chunky helping of chocolate cake. “Here comes the choo choo train,” he says in pure mockery – using Roman’s words from that first time.

Roman rolls his eyes, but he parts his mouth too easily, and eats the cake. His steely gaze remains on Seth, he groans – in ways that should be considered sinful, really. Seth’s breath hitches, and he can feel the butterfly flutters inside his belly. Dammit, his hands are clammy too. “I, um –” gaining a dry mouth, he licks his lips, and scans his brain for any sensible words. 

There’s that shift in the air again – a weird change in their atmosphere.

“You have, um, a bit of –” he points to one corner of Roman’s lips but the chocolate is barely noticeable to be honest. And Seth, he only notices it because he’s hyperaware of Roman. “I’ll lick it clean for you,” he murmurs before pressing forward, and kissing Roman fiercely. “I think I like you, you bastard.” Seth whispers against Roman’s lips, feeling his smirk. “I don’t know how it happened but it was so sudden and as easy as cooking.”

“But you can’t cook.”

“Your point?” Seth folds his arms around Roman’s neck, soaking in his aura – fuck he’s so smitten.

Roman shakes his head, says nothing.

“Good.” A peck, it sets Seth’s soul on fire. “Good, now shut up and kiss me.”

Roman doesn’t hesitate. Thankfully. 


End file.
